


Before the Fall

by The_Jashinist



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Child Abandonment, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jashinist/pseuds/The_Jashinist
Summary: Junkrat decides to go snooping around Roadhog's house and learns a bit more than he wanted to.





	Before the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I have and continue to be mistaken for someone who knows what they're doing.

Jamie had never seen a photo album before, not one with photos in it. Most Junkers didn’t keep photos, and those that did were older Junkers, ones who remembered the time before the omnium blew. They usually kept just one, maybe two or three if they had them, always folded in a back pocket so they could pull it out and shove it in your face to go on for two hours about the family they lost or whatever. Jamie sometimes wondered if either of his parents were like this, wandering around some ramshackle town in the Outback, showing anyone who cared a picture of their son. He thought it unlikely, the only thing Jamie had from his parents was his name. He used to have a little scar from where a big knife had stopped a little hand from making off what little food was left in their one-room shack, but his right hand had long since been blown to scraps of meat and bone somewhere on the North side of Junkertown.

Nevertheless, Jamie never knew a Junker to keep a photo album, but Roadhog, that crazy sonova bitch, he had two. One was smaller, about the size of a small binder, bound with a blue leather cover and gilded with fake silver that was long rusted. The other was a real work of art. The cover was made from reeds bound together and the spine was decorated with a casing of bone and jade, carefully carved as if that was vitally important.

Of course, the albums weren’t the only place you could find photographs in Roadhog’s house. The mantle over the wood-burning stove had three framed ones, facedown, and the left wall beside the meat hooks had four, all facing the wall. Jamie got the impression Roadhog either didn’t like looking at the photos or really didn’t want Jamie to see them.

In the latter case, Jamie was confident in saying he did not care what Roadhog wanted. A bunch of options for knowing more about the big guy were right in front of him, he just needed to grab them at the right time.

Jamie peered out into the darkened hut. Roadhog’s room was dark, and the door was only open a sliver. Jamie slid out of his room and crept along the wall, flinching every time his peg leg clunked against the floor. He pulled the albums free and stacked them on top of each other, then took the photos from the mantle, then the far wall. When they were all stacked in his arms, he retreated to his room and shut the door. The hinges let out a distressed creak, but Jamie figured Roadhog wouldn’t hear, he looked like a heavy sleeper.

Jamie dumped his new hoard on his bed and immediately one photo flipped over. Jamie snatched it up and hopped onto the bed, crossing his legs and holding the photo up to get a good look at it.

It was a woman, young, her face was turned to the camera and she was giving a ghost of a smile. Her dark, red-blonde hair was pulled into a neat bun, and her dark eyes were surrounded by white dots, about the size of a fingerprint. She was wearing body armor, dark blue with white lining, and dark blue camo pants. Jamie furrowed his brow at the badge on the left side of her chest. He knew that symbol, Overwatch. He pulled the photograph free of the frame and flipped it over. A few of the old photos Junkers carried had writing on the back, and sure enough, on the back were the words “Kirra in uniform, 9/17” written in dark blue pen.

Jamie put the picture back and flipped over another frame. It was the same woman, Kirra, with two young boys, maybe two or three, in her arms, one of the boys had his hand lodged firmly in his mouth, the other was asleep.

Most of the framed photos were like this, displaying Kirra, perhaps the two boys, and three of them depicted a young man with a strong build, black hair he pulled back into a small ponytail, and a face that didn’t look very accustomed to smiling. The lower half of his face was covered in swirling tattoos. When Jamie flipped the photos, he learned the man was named Mako.

Then came the albums. Jamie picked up the bigger one first and flipped it open. The first picture was another one of Mako and Kirra, smiling. Jamie didn’t know much about any old traditions, but he knew what Kirra’s white dress meant.

Jamie considered shutting the album, for a moment. This was a wedding album; it was private, not for a stranger’s eyes, and Roadhog certainly wouldn’t be happy knowing Jamie was snooping. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him and he kept going, flipping through photo after photo, noticing Junkers in the sidelines he knew, older ones that constantly looked sad or angry, ones that swore in languages Jamie didn’t know and called him gullah or pakeha.

Jamie reached the end of the album and noticed that someone had written on the inside cover with a metallic marker, a short little note:

_ Think of me fondly, Kirra _

Jamie shut the album, feeling number than he did before, and stiffly picked up the smaller album. There was a crash in the other room, a soft one, and Jamie figured Roadhog had gotten up and knocked something over as he passed it.

He opened the smaller album and was greeted with a letter.

_ Kirra, _

_ I meant to give this to you when you returned, but you know what they say about the best-laid plans. The boys are fine. Hopefully, once this album is full, they’ll be the kind of sons you can be proud of. I’ll send it as soon as I can. _

_ I’m so sorry, you were right. _

_ Mako _

Jamie took a deep breath and flipped to the back of the book.

Empty, Jamie’s heart sank, and he flipped through the blank pages, wondering when he’d see the end of this story.

The first photograph he saw was of him. It was ridiculous looking, enough to make Jamie crack a smile. He was pouting, arms and legs crossed, in front of their big tray of gold and dynamite they never got to use. He flipped through the pages, seeing page upon page of photographs from all over the world, newspaper clippings and polaroids Jamie didn’t even know were taken.

Save for one, at the front of this entire section, one Jamie took himself, grinning like an idiot while Roadhog stared at the camera blankly. With the photograph was one final note.

_ When the boys left, I figured I was done with this album, but I might be wrong. See, I found this idiot, folks around here call him Junkrat, I think his name’s Jamison or something. He’s loud and reckless, lies to everyone, especially himself. I’ll be honest though, I like him. Figured best I could do was make sure the kid doesn’t go out and get himself killed. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get to meet him one day. I hope so. _

_ Until we meet again, _

_ Mako _

The door slammed open, and Jamie froze. He slowly turned his head to the door, staring up at Roadhog with what he assumed was terror.

Roadhog lurched towards him and pulled the album from Jamie’s hands, hoisted him up to his feet, and dragged him out of the room, out of the building, down the porch steps, and threw him into the dust. He marched back up the steps and slammed the door shut. Jamie scrambled to his feet and turned to the door.

“Oh, come on!” he shouted, “You can’t just kick me out!”

No response.

“Where am I supposed to go?”

No response again.

Jamie sat down cross-legged and stared at the door, waiting for it to open again. He didn’t want to risk walking up onto that porch.

The hours dragged on, and Jamie was starting to worry the door wouldn’t open again. Jamie wouldn’t have blamed Roadhog for not opening it. He’d done something wrong; he was adult enough to acknowledge that.

At sunrise, the door creaked open again, and Roadhog walked out, pulled his mask free of his face, and turned to watch the sunrise. Jamie waited for a few seconds, then started to creep back into the house.

“You know you’re not quiet, right?”

Jamie froze, and he glanced over at Roadhog. He hadn’t moved. Jamie swallowed hard and sat down on the porch.

“Sorry,” he choked out, not used to the words.

“Not angry.”

“Not anymore?”

“Nope.”

“Can I come back in?”

“Yep.”

“Are you okay?”

No response there. Jamie got to his feet and walked over to watch the sunrise with Roadhog.

“Are you Mako?”

Roadhog nodded.

“Is Kirra dead?”

Roadhog shook his head.

“Are your sons dead?”

Roadhog shook his head.

“Do you miss them?”

Roadhog nodded.

Jamie sighed and leaned on the porch railing, looking out at the sunrise.

“You got family?” Roadhog asked, breaking the silence.

“Nope!” Jamie shook his head, “or at least, if I do, they’re not looking for me.” Jamie glanced at Roadhog to gauge his response before continuing, “I remember my rents, remember the place we lived in, remember the scars, and the smiles.” Jamie paused, trying to gather his thoughts, “I also remember driving out to the middle of nowhere, walking out to a stripped farm, and next I remember, everyone was gone, and I was really hungry.”

There was a long pause, a long silence.

“Get some sleep,” Roadhog said after a while, “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“To where?” Jamie asked.

“It’s a surprise.”

Jamie pouted and went back into the house. He looked around, something had changed.

The photographs were upright.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no further comments aside from the following: One of my friends informed me that Junkrat has ferret energy so his alternate name is now Trash Ferret.


End file.
